The Secret Woman by Victoria Holt Page B

little herself and kept a very meager table. But Ellen had worked wonders with what she had; she had turned cold potatoes into delicious sauté and had cooked a cauliflower which she served with a cheese and chive sauce. Ellen seemed to be in possession of new powers on that night. Or perhaps I imagined that everything tasted different from what it had before.
    We talked and every now and then Ellen would come in to serve, looking very pretty and excited; I was sure there had never been a happier scene in the Queen’s House, even when Queen Elizabeth was entertained here. I was full of fancies. It was as though the house approved and the alien pieces retreated as I sat in the dining room at the Regency table entertaining my guest.
    There was no wine—Aunt Charlotte was a teetotaler—but that was of no importance.
    He talked about the sea and foreign places and he made me believe I was there, and when he spoke of his ship and his crew I could guess what it meant to him. He was taking out a cargo of cloth and manufactured goods to Sydney and when he was there he would do a certain amount of trading with the Pacific ports before bringing wool back to England. The ship was not big; she was under a thousand tons but he would like me to see how she could cut through the water. She was in the clipper class, and you couldn’t find anything speedier than that. But he was talking too much about himself.
    I protested. No. I wanted to hear it. I was fascinated. I had often been down to the docks and seen the ships there and wondered where they were going. Were they entirely cargo ships, I wanted to know.
    â€œWe take some passengers, though cargo’s the main business. As a matter of fact I have a very important gentleman sailing with me tomorrow. He’s primarily a diamond merchant and going out to look at Australian opals. He has quite a conceit of himself. There are one or two other passengers too. Passengers can present problems on ships like ours.”
    And so we talked and the clocks ticked on furiously and maliciously fast.
    And as we talked I said: “You haven’t told me the name of your ship.”
    â€œHaven’t I? It’s The Secret Woman .”
    â€œ The Secret Woman . Why…that’s what it said on the figure which was in the desk we bought from Castle Crediton. It’s in my room. I’ll go and get it.”
    I picked up the candlestick from the table. It was heavy and he took it from me. “I’ll carry it,” he said.
    â€œBe careful with it. It’s precious.”
    â€œLike everything in the house.”
    â€œWell, not everything.”
    And I turned and side by side we went up the stairs.
    â€œBe careful,” I said, “as you see we’re very cluttered.”
    â€œI understand it’s the shop window,” he replied.
    â€œYes,” I chattered. “I found this figure in the desk. I suppose we should have returned it to you but Aunt Charlotte said it was worthless.”
    â€œI’m sure Aunt Charlotte, as usual, was right.”
    I laughed. “She almost always is, I have to admit.” And thinking of Aunt Charlotte I marveled afresh that I could have dared to invite him to supper as I had—although Ellen had made that inevitable. But I was very willing, so it was no use blaming her. I refused to think of Aunt Charlotte at such a time; she was safely out of the way in some dingy hotel bedroom—she would never stay at the best hotels and poor Mrs. Morton was no doubt having a very trying time.
    We stepped up into the room above. I always thought the house was eerie in candlelight because the furniture took on odd shapes—some grotesque, some almost human, and as they changed constantly they rarely became familiar.
    â€œWhat an odd old house!” he said.
    â€œGenuinely old,” I told him. And I laughed aloud to think of Aunt Charlotte’s verdict on Castle Crediton: Fake! He wanted to know why